Food Stories…

By the month of November of 2011, my family was so happy because we were going to Puerto Rico to visit our grandmother. Family from everywhere, Virginia, New York, California, and my cousin Fernando who was in the navy and he was in Germany. My grandmother was so happy that all of her five kids, grand kids and one great grandson were going. She was cooking for all the family, preparing the pasteles, morcillas, empanadillas, a lot of food, By December 21th all the pasteles were done the morcillas and even the empanadillas. She had presents for everyone (not expensive things), but everyone was grateful. Everything was ready, plates, cups, the Christmas decoration. On December 22, my uncle Luis from PR call everyone to let us know that grandma was very ill. Some of the family had to booked the flights in advance, but unfortunately “abuela” passed away on the 24th and everyone was devastated. On Christmas everyone went to PR and got to eat, and everyone got their presents from “Abuelita.”

Dona CarmelaBy Becky Aviles

Dona Carmela was the grandmother of the neighborhood. She loved to cook and she was good at it. She always cooked huge quantities of food and shared it with all the neighbors. Everyone loved her food because it tastes so good. The neighbors started wondering one day when they realized that she kept cooking large quantities of food but stop sharing her food with the people in the neighborhood. Thats when 2 curious kids decided to follow her. Dona Carmela was going to the trees close to the beach everyday at dusk. She would go from her house to the trees and back several time every evening. The kids realized she was taking pots and pans full of food and place them under a tree close to the beach shore. Her last trip would culminate by taking a full gallon of water. She would do this in a sneaky careful way to ensure no one saw her. The children kept watching her wondering why she eas placing food in the area until one day they saw couple of boats coming from the open ocean to the shore. Many hungry dehydrated, hungry men got out the little boats and came ashore. The kids heard the man telling each other: WHERE IS IT? WHERE IS IT? IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE UNDER THE TREES ! and the men would quitely come ashore and start looking until they found the food. They ate the food and drank the water. It was the immigrants from the dominican republic! Dona Carmela made sure they had a full meal after such a risky trip looking for a better future in Puerto Rico. Thr kids ran back to the neighborhood and spread the news. The people in the neighborhood then started helping dona carmela cooking everyday and placing pota full of food under the trees ti welcome our dominican neighbors that would.come to our shores every night. It became a community effort and has been passed by generations.

La Gran Seňora “Cagüeña – Doňa MillaBy Blanca Salva

Doňa Milla was tall, statuesque like an amazon warrior queen.

She was both beautiful and strong and feared by most.

Her eyes glistened like diamonds; her pale white skin was a sharp contrast to her auburn hair,

Her smile was like a beacon guiding you to her light.

Her hands were large but her touch gentle like a mountain breeze.

She walked slowly and heavy, her body swayed as if dancing with the earth beneath her.

Her mighty arms raised high, hands gripped tightly over her weapon, and with one swift

movement she cuts the throat of the large beast and continues down the center of the beast’s

body.

She watches as the blood runs down into the vessel placed beneath it, smiling at her

good work and thanking the animal and the Gods for this gift that she will share with others.

I met my grandmother when I was 11 years old, she is the most amazing women I have ever met. She was small and had long white hair to her waist. She would braid her hair and tie it to the back of her head. Every evening she will sit in the porch with a bowl (“dita” made from a native plant) and shell the beans my grandfather grew in his garden.

We all gather around her to listen to her stories and jokes. I loved her laughter and I felt so warm and safe when I was with her. By 8:00 pm everyone was back home, uncles, aunts, cousins and grandchildren. We all gathered at the living room and Mama (grandma) would start the pray the rosary. When she finished everyone would leave to their rooms or homes and she would close the door. No one would come in or leave the house once she closed the door (it was an unspoken rule).

Since I was the youngest I would sleep with “mama”. I would watch her un-tie her braided white hair and comb it before going to bed. Those were the happiest moments of my life because I had her all for myself.

She was the first to get up in the mornings, she would open the front door and I would watch how the rays of the sun would surround her (she looked like an angel). She would say “Que entre la gracia de Dios” “Let the grace of God enter”.

To this day every morning when I see the sunrise I say “Que entre la gracia de Dios.”

TostonesBy Jason Estremera

It wasn’t really my grandmother who reminded me of my favorite food. That was a lie. I was afraid to tell the truth because I would have revealed a darker side to my story.

Every time that I bite into a tostone, the sound of the crunch beneath my teeth reminds me of how my father would grind his teeth whenever he ate anything but ESPECIALLY tostones. He was a very high-strung person and for the longest time I remembered him as a shadow. He was there, but I never saw him. He was a slave to corporate America. Wildly successful, he made a point of it to continue climbing the ranks because he was raised in a house with very little of anything.

His family struggled financially but they struggled socially because they were brown. Racism was something he grew accustomed to as a child and as a young adult. He vowed to show the world that he would make something of himself. And he did. That meant though, we barely saw him. I would wake up and he’d be gone and he would return from work very late.

As soon as my father’s car door would slam shut in the driveway, immediately you heard the sizzle of a tostone frying in the pan. He would make us sit at the table with him as he ate, even though we were not eating. These “family dinners” were so terribly awkward. Most times, we said nothing. The only sound would be the crispy tostones grinding between my father’s teeth.

I remember there was snow on the ground when the sound of the door closing and the plantain hitting the grease stopped. One day, my father just stopped coming home. He left us. I later realized that my mother and he were never married. My father became the success he dreamt of but that meant certain inconveniences could no longer exist. This is the real story of how I moved from Chicago back to Cleveland. This also reveals that the person everybody is familiar with as my current father is actually not my father.

One day, My sister and I both lost our parents, and our tradition ended. We were all by ourselves and starting drifting away from whatever family we had left. Becoming very dark times for both of us.

During Johanna’s final day before moving to another country, Mi hija y yo fuimos a la casa de mi hermana, y ella y yo cosinamos arros y pollo, y los nuestros hijos set up the dining room table. Jugamos el cancion “Mi Eterno Amor Secrete” de Marco Antonio Solis. All four of us sat around the table, and bonded with each other and our babies like a small family. Having our mom and dad in our thoughts.

Gallo PintoBy Liney Cintron

I think food unites people and that’s how I feel when I eat a plate of “gallo pinto.” Being far away from your loved ones is hard but enjoying a tasty reminder of something you hold dear fills not only your tummy but your heart as well. This is my soul food and it has connected me with a culture different from my own. I am Puerto Rican and “gallo pinto” is a traditional Costa Rican dish. It’s special to me because my dear boyfriend is native to Costa Rica and is currently living there. It was a typical meal we would share in the mornings. Even though we are apart I can prepare it myself and feel closer. I love to indulge in a flavorful reminder of the things I feel in love with; the Tico culture, Costa Rica and him of course.

This seasoned rice dish holds a story of its own. Much affection bursts in the national conscience for this humble yet tasty combination of rice and beans. It is served during breakfast time in Costa Rica and it consists of rice, red or black beans, onions, green bell peppers, cilantro, garlic and the secret ingredient Costa Rican Salsa Lizano! This bottle can be hard to come by. Dispute exists between the Nicas (Nicaraguans) and Ticos (Costa Ricans) as to where it originated. Here is a background from Grettel Calderon:

The history of gallo pinto is not well known, and there have always been disputes between Costa Ricans and Nicaraguans about where the dish originated. Some historic references takes us to the Atlantic, where is was first mentioned in literature in the book Mamita Yunai by Carlos Luis Fallas, a Costa Rican historic novel, where the workers of the banana plantations, not only Costa Ricans but Nicaraguans learned to eat it and then the Nicaraguans took it to Nicaragua where it became a traditional meal.

Why the name Gallo Pinto (spotted, multicolored or speckled rooster)? Some people say because it used to be eaten in a tortilla, anything you put on top of a tortilla is called a ‘gallo’, plus the blotchy red and white colors of the rice and the red beans are similar to the feathers of the spotted/speckled roosters you find at the farms. Others say it could have been a reference to the ‘spotted rooster” which is the bravest of the pen or farm and at that time the rooster fights were very common.

The Nicaraguans tell a funny story though of a guy under the name of don Alfredo, a rich farmer who had a very healthy speckled rooster we was fattening up for roasting. As the day of the feast approached don Alfredo would invite everyone he saw on the street, after of course bragging about the size of the rooster, etc. The day of the feast everyone in the village showed up expecting their juicy piece of the rooster. After seen the amount of people who attended Don Alfredo realize he had made a mistake, no matter how fat the rooster was, there was no way to feed everyone with it. He then rushed to the kitchen and asked his maids to cook a huge pile of rice and beans which he gave to the invitees so they wouldn’t go home hungry. It was pretty disappointing for the villagers who, in the days to follow the ‘feast’ began to mock proud don Alfredo, asking each other questions like ‘did you enjoy don Alfredo’s Gallo Pinto?’ and from there the name stuck.

Café con LecheBy Liz Gonzalez

Café con leche it like going back to my childhood, how every morning papi would wake me up for school. He would start making the black coffee first then he would add milk next he’ll add two spoons of sugar and cut a piece of bread mmm! The smell of coffee would take over the house and it would feel like I was in Puerto Rico with my whole family. Café con leche WAS something special for me, like a father and daughter time we would share. We would sit for hour and talk about how life was going to get better by the minute. Now things aren’t the way it use to be, we’re just drinking coffee and nothing more of it. We don’t even talk like we use to. We just get into fights non-stop now. I feel like I lost my best friend that special feeling is gone.

Chile RellenosBy Luis Ramirez-Alonso

The dish I most remember, it’s chile rellenos, stuffed poblano peppers filled with ground beef and seasonal fruits , then dipped in a delicate egg whites batter and fried … It’s a very laborious dish, you have to buy the perfect peppers, wash them, grill them, peel them and wash them and dried them all up … Served with fluffy Mexican rice and a ranchera sauce (a base of chicken stock salsa with roasted tomatoes, grilled peppers, fresh onion and crisp cilantro, it can take good 5 or 6 hours for a couple of peppers .

What it makes this dish so special is that my mom cooked this dish for me right before I left Mexico … I was 17 and we have had a struggling relationship, I wasn’t raised by her and even though I had forgotten that she left me behind , deep inside me I was still holding a grudge , tall and big, I was still a kid that kept wondering what I had done wrong for her to leave me … That day that she cooked for me, I felt that it was her way of making peace with me, somehow it made me feel that way … We joke around, talked about me leaving , candidly talked about this and that , at one point her husband called at the phone and she told him she was busy … She really devoted herself to me that day , even though 6 hours of distance would separate us, it was like I was leaving for China, she wanted to fill her memories of me, and I was just enjoying my mom, for all those years that passed .

Right after we finished eating … I hold all the courage I had on me and decided to tell her that I was gay … She hugged me and started crying … And she said the words I would never forget: I’m not crying because you’re gay, I’m crying because you might never find someone to love and to grow old with … But no matter what, I will always be here with you, if not by distance, but by heart … If God keep me alive, I will be there for you.

CevicheBy Monica Cerpa-Zuniga

My grandma, who I called Mama Justa, and I shared the same room for most of my life until she passed away when she was 84 in 1990.

I have beautiful memories of her and one of them is how we had these parties at home where there was dancing, drinking and a lot of eating. It has always been intriguing to me that we never ran out of food during these parties. She would prepare food in these HUGE pots enough for everybody to enjoy during the night. Dancing and partying could go until 4 or 5 in the morning even on a weekday, during the work week.

If you had your birthday fall on the middle of the week, it didn’t matter, that was day to celebrate, even though you had to work the next day. And on top if it Mama Justa would lock the door so nobody could leave. I don’t remember but maybe it was by the time she was falling sleep that she would let people go.

My mom, Mama Justa, was a great cook, gosh !!!! I truly miss that touch of true flavor in the meals she prepared. Mama Justa is my mom’s mom, Mama Alicia. Mama Alicia has graciously tried to be a good cook but it is just not her thing. However my dad, mmmmmm, he inherited my grandma’s cooking skills. He would be in the kitchen asking my grandma what she was doing and how she was preparing it and he learned. No recipes, measuring cups, just following your taste or feeling for what you were cooking. He can prepare anything and everything, sometimes he is shy about, some other times he cannot hide his pride.

Ceviche is one of our well known Peruvian dishes. After so many years trying to get it right, FINALLY, this year I was able to prepare it. My parents were visiting for the holidays in December and January and I watched my dad prepare the Ceviche step by step, no recipe, no measured ingredients just the right skills to make it come true. Now I can prepare it anytime I want to and feel like home again, in Peru, helping my dad when he cooks, assisting washing pots and utensils while keeping track of what he is doing. Yes, I learned to cook from him. . . . . . and from my Mama Justa too, I can say, since that is how my dad got it.

Talking to Rafael, came many memories of my childhood. I remembered my mom in the kitchen singing and preparing good grass for the discomfort of stomach or ginger tea. The Aroma traveled throughout the house. Everything was of course prepared with homemade ingredients collected from the orchard.

Mommy was the best at doing home remedies. I remember that many people come to my house to seek the remedies already prepared or simply to look for medicinal plants. Among them especially” Yanten;” seeking so much for cancer patients or “Maguey” to help with asthma.

Most that I liked was hearing the testimonies of the people saying how my mom had helped to cure. They called her “Holy Hand”…and really she was…that my older brother, already married and residing in the metropolitan area was traveling to our house when he was sick so mami healed it. He trusted blindly in it…much more than in doctors. In fact when his wife was sick with shingles…Mami was who cured it…

That when the happiness in coming through you window with the drops of sun in the morning

La tristeza duerme an la oscuridad de agun Rincon

Your sadness is sleeping in a dark corner

Esperando a que el sol se esconda

Waiting to the sun to come down.

Pablo’s Grandma’s DishBy Pablo Santiago

My grandma maked the most delicious food dishes. She put that special ingredient on the plates that up to these dates I don’t know what it was. That sazon and flavor was always there. One of my favorite dish from her was Guanimes con Bacalao (Cod Fish). She don’t make it often. But when she make them (Pero cuando los hacia) “Ay mi madre” the pot was empty. It was the favorite of many in our family.

I remembered how the smell of Bacalao (Cod Fish) was all over the house and how she tried to showed me how to do make the Guanimes. La harina (the flour) stick in my fingers and covered all my body trying to help mi abuelita (grandma). She look at me and laugh and joke about it.

Right before she become ill and ended in the hospital we have a big dinner in our house and guess what? Guanimes con bacalao were the main dish. It was at the hospital when I was right next to the bed that she told me “No te preocupes mijo que yo te hago los Guanimes cuando salga de aqui ” (Don’t worry I will make you Guanimes when I left from here. It was the look on her face what strucked me. I saw that look you give to someone when you say goodbye knowing that you wont see it again. Something tell me inside that was her farewell. I remember that I look down, wipe my eyes and ask for la bendicion (bless), kiss her in the cheek and left. I never return to the hospital I want to remember her like that. Love you Grandma and whenever you are I know that your sazon and flavor is there.

In a medium bowl mix all the ingredients up to forming a doughy mixture. Wash the banana sheets and divide them in pieces. Form 8 sorullos. In the center of every sheet place the mixture. Roll up ends and tie up with drawstring. In a medium casserole warm 8 water cups with 1 teaspoonful of salt. Place the guanimes and cook for 20 to 25 minutes. *Note some people don’t wrap their sorullos in anything, they simply drop the sorrullitos in boiling salted water. Guanimes can be made using plantains or even flour as well as cornmeal.